THE MAFIA UNWANTED BRIDE

The Night Her Father Died

The first gunshot shattered Elena Rossi’s life.

She froze halfway down the staircase.

For one terrifying second, she couldn’t understand what she had heard.

Then came another shot.

Bang!

The sound echoed through the enormous house.

Elena’s heart slammed against her ribs.

“Dad?”

No answer.

She looked toward her father’s study.

The door was slightly open.

A strange feeling crawled over her skin.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

“Dad?”

She took one cautious step down.

Then another.

Her bare feet were cold against the marble floor.

She had been upstairs getting ready for bed only minutes ago. Her father had been in his study, as usual, telling her he had some work to finish before joining her for dinner.

Everything had been normal.

Until now.

Elena reached the bottom of the stairs.

The house was unusually quiet.

Too quiet.

She could hear her own breathing.

Then she noticed the front door.

It was open.

Her stomach dropped.

Her father never left the front door unlocked.

She slowly moved toward the study.

“Dad?”

A man’s voice suddenly came from somewhere behind her.

“She’s here.”

Elena spun around.

Three men stood at the entrance of the hallway.

They were dressed in black.

Their faces were partially covered.

One of them was holding a gun.

Elena couldn’t breathe.

The man lifted the weapon.

“Run!”

She didn’t need to be told twice.

Elena turned and sprinted.

A gunshot exploded behind her.

She screamed.

The bullet struck the wall beside her.

She ran toward the kitchen, knocking over a chair as another shot rang through the house.

“Where is it?” one of the men shouted.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Her father’s voice.

Alive.

For the moment.

Elena stopped.

“Dad!”

She turned toward the study.

“Elena, don’t!”

Her father’s voice was filled with panic.

She ignored him.

She rushed toward the room.

Two men were standing over her father.

Carlo Rossi was on his knees.

Blood stained his white shirt.

“Dad!”

Elena screamed.

One of the men grabbed her arm.

She fought desperately.

“Let me go!”

“Where is the file?” the man demanded.

“I don’t know!”

Her father looked at her.

There was something in his eyes Elena had never seen before.

Fear.

Not for himself.

For her.

“Take her,” Carlo whispered.

Elena stared at him.

“Dad?”

“Take her and run.”

The man holding Elena tightened his grip.

“Your father has something we need.”

“I don’t know anything!”

“Maybe you don’t.”

The man raised his gun.

“But you will.”

Elena’s eyes widened.

“No!”

The gunshot came before she could move.

Her father’s body jerked.

Then he collapsed.

“Dad!”

Elena screamed so loudly her throat burned.

She fought the man’s grip with everything she had.

She kicked him.

Bit his hand.

He cursed and released her.

Elena dropped beside her father.

Blood was spreading across the floor.

“Dad, please.”

Her hands shook as she pressed them against his wound.

“Please don’t leave me.”

Carlo’s eyes struggled to focus.

“Elena…”

“I’m here.”

His fingers closed weakly around hers.

“Listen to me.”

“I’ll call an ambulance.”

“No.”

“Dad—”

“No ambulance.”

His breathing became shallow.

“There isn’t time.”

Elena shook her head violently.

“Don’t say that.”

“You have to leave.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Listen to me!”

The sudden strength in his voice made her stop.

Carlo looked toward the doorway.

“They will come for you.”

“Who?”

“My enemies.”

Elena stared at him in confusion.

“Your enemies? Dad, what are you talking about?”

Carlo’s expression broke.

For years, Elena had believed her father was simply a successful businessman.

A strict father sometimes.

A distant father occasionally.

But a good man.

Now, lying in a pool of his own blood, he looked like someone carrying a secret much darker than she had ever imagined.

“I should have told you,” he whispered.

“Told me what?”

His lips parted.

But no words came.

His eyes closed.

“Dad?”

Elena shook him.

“Dad!”

Nothing.

“No…”

Her voice broke.

“No, no, no.”

A sound behind her made her turn.

The men were coming back.

Elena stumbled to her feet.

She had nowhere to go.

One of the men raised his gun.

“She’s the daughter. Take her.”

Elena backed away.

“Stay away from me.”

The gun pointed directly at her.

She closed her eyes.

A gunshot rang through the room.

But Elena didn’t feel a bullet.

She opened her eyes.

The man holding the gun fell to the floor.

A dark figure stood behind him.

Tall.

Broad-shouldered.

Dressed entirely in black.

His face was calm.

Almost frighteningly calm.

Another man attacked him.

The stranger moved faster.

He grabbed the man’s wrist, twisted it, and slammed him against the wall.

The gun dropped.

The stranger picked it up.

One shot.

Silence.

Elena stared at him.

He looked at her.

His eyes were cold and impossibly dark.

“Are you Elena Rossi?”

She couldn’t speak.

“Answer me.”

“Yes.”

He walked toward her.

Elena immediately stepped backward.

“Don’t come near me.”

He stopped.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then he looked at Carlo’s body.

Something changed in his expression.

Not grief.

Recognition.

“You’re too late,” Elena whispered.

His jaw tightened.

“I know.”

“Who are you?”

“Damien Moretti.”

The name meant nothing to Elena.

But judging by the fear that had flashed across the face of the dead men, it meant something to them.

Damien looked toward the hallway.

“We have to leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Your father is dead.”

The words hit harder than the gunshots.

Elena stared at him.

“Don’t say that.”

“You don’t have time to mourn.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“How can you say that?”

“Because the men who killed him weren’t the only ones sent here.”

Elena’s blood ran cold.

“What?”

Damien stepped closer.

“More men are coming.”

She shook her head.

“No.”

“Elena.”

“I can’t leave my father.”

“You’re not leaving him.”

Damien glanced at Carlo.

“You’re surviving him.”

Something about the certainty in his voice frightened her.

Then she heard vehicles outside.

More than one.

Damien’s expression hardened.

“They’re here.”

Elena looked toward the window.

Headlights appeared beyond the gates.

Her fear returned.

“Who are they?”

Damien reached for her hand.

She pulled away.

“Don’t touch me.”

He stared at her for a second.

Then he said quietly,

“Fine.”

He walked toward the back door.

“Follow me or stay here and die.”

Elena looked at her father one last time.

Her chest felt like it was being crushed.

“I love you, Dad.”

Then she ran after Damien.

They moved through the back corridor as shouting erupted outside.

Damien opened a hidden door Elena had never noticed.

She stared.

“You knew about this?”

“Your father showed it to me.”

She stopped.

“What?”

Damien looked back at her.

“There are many things your father never told you.”

Before Elena could ask another question, a bullet struck the wall beside them.

Damien grabbed her waist and pulled her down.

“Stay down.”

More gunshots followed.

Damien fired back.

Elena covered her ears.

Seconds later, he pulled her up.

“Move.”

They ran.

When they finally reached a black SUV waiting behind the property, Damien opened the passenger door.

Elena hesitated.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere they can’t reach you.”

“I don’t know you.”

“You don’t need to.”

“Yes, I do!”

Damien stared at her.

“My father knew you.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

His silence answered her.

Elena’s stomach tightened.

“You knew him.”

Damien looked toward the burning house.

“I knew what kind of man your father really was.”

Elena’s face hardened.

“What does that mean?”

“It means your father’s death wasn’t an accident.”

“I know that.”

“No.”

Damien looked directly into her eyes.

“You don’t understand.”

He stepped closer.

“The men who killed your father weren’t looking for money.”

“Then what were they looking for?”

Damien’s expression turned cold.

“You.”

Elena’s blood froze.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because someone believes your father left something behind.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.”

“I don’t lie about things that can get people killed.”

Elena stared at him.

For the first time, she noticed the blood on his hands.

Not all of it belonged to her father’s killers.

Some of it was fresh.

Some of it was his.

Yet Damien didn’t seem bothered.

He opened the car door again.

“Get in.”

Elena swallowed.

She had just watched her father die.

Her home had been invaded.

Armed men wanted her dead.

And the only person standing between her and those men was a stranger who seemed more dangerous than everyone else combined.

She got into the car.

Damien closed the door.

As the SUV sped away from the burning Rossi estate, Elena looked through the window.

The home she had known all her life disappeared behind smoke and flames.

Her old life was gone.

She just didn’t know yet that the man sitting beside her was about to become the most dangerous—and most important—person in her new one.

Damien stared ahead.

His phone rang.

He answered.

“What?”

A voice spoke on the other end.

Damien’s expression changed.

“Are you sure?”

A pause.

“Then find him.”

He ended the call.

Elena watched him carefully.

“Who was that?”

Damien didn’t answer immediately.

Then he looked at her.

“Victor Romano.”

The name meant nothing to Elena.

But the look in Damien’s eyes told her it should.

“He ordered your father’s murder.”

Elena’s heart stopped.

“Why?”

Damien’s voice was low.

“Because your father betrayed him.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

Damien held her gaze.

“Everything.”

Elena stared at him.

She wanted answers.

She wanted her father back.

She wanted her life back.

But as the city disappeared behind them, one terrifying truth settled into her heart.

Her father’s murder had not ended something.

It had started something.

And Elena Rossi had just become the most wanted woman in the city.

The Mafia Heir

Elena didn’t speak for the first twenty minutes.

Neither did Damien.

The silence inside the car was almost unbearable.

Elena sat rigidly in the passenger seat, staring through the window as the city lights blurred past.

Every few seconds, she looked at Damien.

He never looked back.

His hands remained firmly on the steering wheel, his face unreadable.

How could someone remain so calm after witnessing a murder?

How could he drive as though tonight had been nothing more than another unpleasant evening?

Elena looked down at her hands.

There was still blood on them.

Her father’s blood.

She rubbed them against her dress, but the stain remained.

Her eyes burned.

She quickly looked away.

She refused to cry.

Not in front of him.

Not in front of a stranger.

Especially not one who clearly knew more about her father than she did.

“Where a